Make You Feel My Love
by all2him1
Summary: After 3 years of absence, Meg returns to Philadelphia. Sam wonders if he'll get the chance to see her, and if she is still the same Meg. Sam's POV/Sam/Meg
1. Chapter 1

Make You Feel My Love  
_  
When the rain is blowing in your face  
And the whole world is on your case  
I could offer you a warm embrace  
To make you feel my love  
Make You Feel My Love - Bob Dylan_

August 1969_  
_

Sam Walker wondered if he'd heard correctly when his father, Henry, said Meg was back from California. Part of him always imagined her returning, but after a point it had merely become wishful thinking. The days following her departure turned into weeks, and weeks into months, until eventually three years passed. Life had gone on as usual for Sam, but her missing presence still loomed over him like a hovering apparition.

It was the same way for the Pryors. Sometimes, but not often, they'd talk about Meg. It was always with a wistful look, as if her absence was too unbearable to think about. Sam could sympathize with them there. He wanted to believe that she was okay, that she was somewhere safe. But with no word of her whereabouts after a whole three years, part of him began to think the worse. What if she had gone from runaway to missing person? What if. . . she wasn't safe? New questions brought about by her reappearance now clouded these ones. Why hadn't she written or called anyone? At least she could have said something to Roxanne. Sam pestered Roxanne for the first year after she got a letter from Meg. But after that first letter there were no more, and then Roxanne seemed just as wistful as everyone else about Meg.

Now she was back. Why she was back wasn't really a concern to him. All he knew was he wanted to see her. He was a little nervous because he knew inevitably he would. Whether it was that night or the next day was the question. Sam had no idea what he would say. The last time she saw him it was under somewhat awkward circumstances, right after they tried for something more than a friendship. That attempt didn't end well. And though part of him still hoped for something more, it was only a small part. The other part was capable of accepting that they were only going to be friends, even if he did care for her as more than a friend. It was crazy how after all these years he still felt this way. Girls had come and gone - college girls, even - but none of them could hold a candle to Meg. She was Meg. She was _his_ Meg. He didn't know if he could still say that about her then, but he hoped he could.

"I guess you heard Meg's back," his little sister, Angela, told him later that day. It was raining outside and Sam was sitting watching – but not really watching - an in-color episode of "I Dream of Jeannie". Jeannie was doing her signature eye blink when Sam replied that he was aware that Meg had returned. "Dad told you?" Sam asked, sitting up from his sideways position on the couch. Angela came to sit by him, "I just overheard," she responded. Her round, curious eyes attempted to read his reaction. "I don't know why he didn't tell me," Sam muttered, thinking out loud. He was going to find out eventually. There was no use in stalling. Maybe Henry wanted to give him some warning before he told him the news. Everyone use to make a big deal about he and Meg being friends because she was white and he was black. Maybe nothing had changed in that respect.

He wanted to drop by the Pryors. He wanted to call, but there was no guarantee she'd be there, no guarantee he'd see her. There was also a small part of him that was scared. Three years was usually all it took to change a person. He wasn't sure if he was ready to handle the new Meg yet.

So, Sam went on with his day. It was summer and in between semesters at Penn. Like the past two summers, he was helping his father in the afternoons at their store, Walker Appliance. It had finally reopened in North Philadelphia, after being trashed during the race riots in '64. So much in the neighborhood had changed since then. They were rebuilding. Businesses were up and running again and even though King was dead, the message of his dream drifted in the sultry summer air like a whispered prayer.

Henry left Sam to close the shop that Saturday evening and Sam was turning things off lights, rearranging TVs. It was his preoccupation with fixing one that was suddenly producing a fuzzy picture that caused him not to hear the tapping on the window at the front of the store. When the tap grew louder and harder he jumped up, instantly suspicious that someone was going to break into the faintly-lit store. Needless to say, when he turned around and saw Meg standing there in the window, he didn't believe that she was actually real. It took a couple more hard wraps before he realized she wasn't a figment of his imagination.

Instinctively he jogged to the door, unlocked it, and let her in. Once she entered, they both stood there. Both, wordless and expressionless. Sam took this time to examine her. She still looked the same - but her face was harder, rougher. Somehow she still seemed like the same Meg. Her blond hair, bone-straight and wet from the rain, was shoulder-length. Loose bangs stopped just above her crystal blue eyes. Everything else - her heart-shaped face, slender nose and bow lips - was still the same. She was still beautiful despite her somber frown.

After another beat of silence, "Sam," was all she said. Then she looked away and let out a sigh, wiping her wet palms against the long blue and white dress she was wearing. The rain outside fell harder as her eyes slowly met his again. They were watering. Her bottom lip trembled. Before she could cry, he pulled her against his chest, and without hesitation she wrapped her arms tightly around him. Sam could feel the tears wetting the white cotton shirt he had on and could hear her muffled sobs. As he held her, all he really wanted to know was what had happened. Still, he knew that it didn't matter then. She needed to be comforted. She probably needed a friend. Somehow he found himself stroking her hair and her back without realizing he was touching the bare skin at the nape of her neck. After a moment the tearful moans stopped and Meg pulled away from him a little. She stared at him a brief second, then reached up and curled her hand around his neck, bringing her face closer to his. Before he could think about what was happening, Meg was kissing him and he was kissing her. Her sweet-and-sour-tasting lips were warm and hard against his, but so delicate. The same way he pictured Meg. In that moment, he could have kissed her forever. It was when he felt her tongue attempting to slip into his mouth, that he came to his senses. What were they doing? Why, after three years, was Meg just kissing him impulsively? What about her boyfriend? Sam pulled away and took two sizable steps back.

"Meg, uh - " he stammered, "You should probably go." Even though he hadn't minded the kiss, it didn't seem or feel right, especially under the current circumstances. He couldn't even look her in the eye.

He heard Meg let out a whimper. "Maybe I should," she murmured. Sam looked up to see her holding her dress from sweeping the ground as she pushed out the door. She hung her head sullenly as she slowly paced away.

He couldn't let her walk away that way. He just couldn't. How could he possibly let her leave alone this time of night anyway?


	2. Chapter 2

"What happened?" he asked, as Meg came back through the door of the store. The raindrops had instantly matted down her hair, soaked through the front of her dress. Sam gave her his jacket and walked her to the back of the store.

"More like what didn't happen," Meg replied, as they sat down at two chairs near the office where he and his father handled the bookkeeping.

Meg began to explain how she'd left for LA with Chris, and how they eventually wound up in San Francisco. They traveled a little while with something like a commune and then found themselves back where they began, right back in San Francisco. Briefly they lived in an apartment together. Meg didn't work, but Chris booked acts at the local hangout called The Shaky Underground. At the same time he remained heavy into his activism. Pretty soon it got to be all about hanging out with the _far out _crowd near Haight-Ashbury. It wasn't long before nights of Chris being gone turned into weeks. Although Meg asked around among his friends and acquaintances, no one knew where Chris was. As a result - Meg was evicted from their place and forced out onto the streets.

Sam let out a deep breath as he listened, now understanding why her soft face had become so hardened. He felt so sorry for her and wished most of all that she hadn't been abandoned.

She continued in her story, telling him how even though she wanted to go home, she couldn't bring herself to do it. She didn't want go back to her family, not the way she was then. So, Meg managed. She worked as a waitress at a dive called Jerry's in order to pay the rent for another apartment near Haight-Fillmore. She said the word waitress with a roll of her eyes as if there was more to it than waitressing alone, conveying a bitterness in her voice when she talked about how degrading the job was, how much she felt taken advantage of. Her voice was even harder when she told him that she reached a breaking point where she knew she had to leave.

What that breaking point might have been saddened and angered Sam. His hands were balled in fists as she finished, revealing how she stayed awhile with one of the girls she'd known from the bar, coincidentally named Roxanne, before _that _Roxanne convinced her to return home to Philadelphia. "I got tired of being someone else," Meg said. She was looking out through the front of the store windows, the streets were basically bare, except for a wanderer or two here and there. "I got tired of experimenting, and trying so hard to be what everybody else wanted me to be," she continued. "I thought I was leaving to be independent, but all I was really doing was depending on everyone around me."

Hanging her head down, she brought her knees to her chest. Her hair hung like wet strings, covering the sides of her face as she spoke.

"I really missed my family too." She paused and moved her hair around her ear. "I didn't want to come back and hurt them even more than I already had."

"How did they handle you coming back?" Sam questioned, curious to know since Henry didn't mentioned anything else the last time he saw them.

"Dad wouldn't speak to me at first," she responded. "Mom wouldn't ask any questions at all. She just pretended as if nothing even happened. I don't think she was ready to hear all that I'd gone through."

"When did Mr. Pryor finally come around?" Sam watched Meg as she eyed the flimsy leather sandals dangling on her feet.

"He told me _goodnight_."

There was a sadness in her voice as she said this that made Sam quietly hope the next day was better for Meg, that things wouldn't be so tense in her household.

"That's why I had to get away for a while," Meg said, lifting her head and meeting his eyes. "I couldn't find Roxanne."

"She left for a couple weeks," Sam told her. "Her and Luke went on vacation."

Meg gave him a funny look that was probably questioning how he knew so much. Sam didn't tell her that he and Roxanne got somewhat closer in her absence - bonding over the lack of their mutual friend. Both of them had the same hope that Meg would actually come back.

"I was going to look for you. . . eventually," Meg stated, as if she was apologizing for wanting to find Roxanne first. "I missed. . . I missed you too," she told him.

His head swiveled in the direction away from her soft gaze. He wanted badly to change the subject and he did, to the first thing that came to mind. "So you never found him. . . I mean your. . ." Sam's voice trailed off.

"Chris? No, I never saw him again," she admitted. "And after that, every guy I was with made me feel. . . disgusting."

Sam felt a tinge of anger mixed with grief well up like a ball in his stomach. No wonder she kissed him. He should have known it was in reaction to something that had happened to her. When no man was good to her, any man, even a friend was good enough.

"Sam... I..." she began, immediately regaining his attention. "I'm glad you're still my friend."

"Always," Sam said firmly, smiling over at her. And then, for the first time that night, he saw her crack a smile of her own. It was the smile he remembered so often seeing. He knew then that things were already looking up.

"You would be so jealous of all the acts I met at The Shaky Underground." She told him, still smiling. "Fifth Dimension, The Byrds, The Box Tops. . . And I have autographs to prove it."

"But it wasn't better than Bandstand," Sam quipped.

"No way," Meg answered, casting a pensive glare towards the windows again. "You probably really regret kissing me." Her voice was low and serious, maybe even a little shy. Sam really couldn't tell. His eyes were avoiding hers as he thought back to kissing her. As good as it was, he felt guilty now, especially now knowing how vulnerable she was.

"I do, a little," he admitted averting her gaze.

There was silence again. "I wanted to do that for a while," she confessed, kicking off her wet leather sandals both at the same time. When their eyes finally met internally everything went awry for Sam. His heart was beating fast, a ball formed in his throat. Between them the air seemed to change instantly. "When I was in San Francisco people were really open," she began, "I saw couples. . . and it didn't matter."

Even though she was speaking about it indirectly, Sam knew that she was referring to their relationship, or now, the possibility of a relationship. It seemed strange to Sam that after being away so long she felt this way. He chalked it up to her vulnerability again.

"I don't think, we should. . . just now. . ." Sam couldn't even string together a complete sentence. His heart was still flitting in chest.

"I understand," Meg said. She clutched the jacket tighter around her shoulders. "I just wanted you to know, I didn't regret it." She didn't look him in the eyes as she said these words. For the first time, she seemed a little unsure of herself, even though her words were clear and firm. Then she moved her chair closer to Sam and leaned in just enough to take his hand in hers.

"Thank you, Sam," She whispered, curling her hand tighter around his. Sam looked down at their hands clasped together and smirked. Already close enough to rub his shoulder against hers, he leaned just a little more and kissed her on the cheek. Meg was frozen a moment before she lifted her head smiling, very gently and softly kissing him on the lips in return. Even though it was brief and seemed timid compared to the last kiss, it _felt_ realer to Sam. He didn't know really what it meant at all, but he didn't mind. He was just glad to see that gorgeous smile and that she seemed like _his_ Meg again. As she rested her head on his shoulder - that was all they were, just Sam and Meg, no matter what tomorrow promised.

THE END

**Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I'm not the creator of the series. If I was, I'd try and get it back on air.**

**A/N: I'm sure I took some liberties with the material, since I've only re-watched tidbits of the series here and there. I'm not positive about what is canon and what's not specifically, but I think I was close. =p Enjoy!**


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